


Knight in Shining Spurs

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Bottom!Gabriel, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, McReaper, Oral Sex, Rescue, Rescue Missions, mcreyes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9242660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: He walks to his quarters in a daze, the movement automatic. His body still aches a little, in spite of the biotic field - or maybe that tightness he’s feeling in his chest is something else entirely. Jesse collapses on his narrow bed and presses his face into the pillow. He curls around Gabe’s hoodie, breathes in the smell, and tries not to think about Gabe being taken, hurt,killed.---In which Gabe is kidnapped on a mission and Jesse goes after him himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> I am permanently indebted to [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega) for a) getting me into this pit of feelings, and b) reading everything I write and giving me consistently excellent feedback. The Blackwatch OCs are fabrega's and I just beat them up a bunch. 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic).

It goes wrong before anyone can stop it. The explosion triggers a series of collapses throughout the mountain complex, giving the hostiles just enough time to fly out of range before the next series of explosions. The mountain rumbles dangerously; the snow cap above the open hangar looks precarious. Jesse scrambles in the direction of where he had last seen Gabe, right before the first explosion. 

“- compromised - this is Commander -” Gabe shouts over the comms before the line fizzles and dies. 

Jesse manages to look up in time to see the shuttle taking off. He knows with deadly certainty that Gabe is on that shuttle. The next explosion sends Jesse flying through the air. He collides with a crumbling wall and the rest goes black. 

=-=-=

Jesse wakes in the infirmary back at the base, head pounding and vision blurry. His limbs feel heavy as he tries to shift off a throbbing bruise somewhere on his back. He sees Doc Z’s golden head floating above him. 

“Where's Gabe?” he slurs with difficulty. Fareeha’s face comes into view. 

“Angela said not to talk, Jesse,” she says. Jesse tries to sit up. 

“Gotta go - we hafta get ‘im -”

Gentle but surprisingly strong hands push Jesse back down to the bed. 

“There's a recon team already en route,” Doc Z says as she pushes Jesse down. He always forgets how strong she is. It doesn’t help that his whole body hurts. Fareeha pats Jesse’s shoulder soothingly. 

“You have a concussion,” she says. “They're recharging the biotic field for you now.”

Jesse struggles a little, but his body isn't responding like it should; he feels like he's moving through tar. He shouldn’t be here - he should be out with the recon team.  _ Gabe _ is out there and he should - 

“Get some rest,” Doc Z says and then Jesse feels a pinch in his arm. The room spins and it's too much to try to keep his eyes open. He fights it, but it takes him anyway. 

=-=-=

Jesse finds himself in an awfully familiar garage, the orange lights buzzing overhead. Instead of a nameless, faceless victim tied to the pipes, though, it’s Gabe. His arms are strung up behind him and he's on his knees. His tac armor is torn up and dirty; his face beaten and smeared with blood. Jesse lurches forward. 

“Gabe -” he says. Gabe lifts his head with difficulty, the pain and fear clear in his face in a way that Jesse hasn't seen before. Bile rises in his throat. 

A hand clamps down on his shoulder. 

“Woah there,” a sickeningly familiar voice says in Jesse’s ear. “We ain't done with him yet.”

A shadowy figure steps over Gabe, a pipe raised above his head. Jesse cries out as they bring it down -  

“Jesse!” Fareeha says, shaking him hard by the shoulder. The sharp bit of pain wakes him up, bringing him, dazed, to the present. He looks around wildly, trying to get his bearings. Infirmary monitors beep his own vitals at him. He tries to take a couple of breaths to calm himself. Fareeha frowns at him, face full of concern. “You were shouting in your sleep.”

“I -” Jesse starts to say then shakes his head a little. He hasn't had a nightmare like that in a long time. Not since he and Gabe started sleeping together regularly, anyway. 

“Should I get Angela?”

“Nah,” Jesse says finally. He can still taste the bile on the back of his tongue. “Don't bother her.”

“Okay,” Fareeha says, but she's unconvinced. 

“Any updates?”

“I haven't heard anything. I think they're trying to keep it really quiet,” Fareeha says. Jesse frowns. She pets his shoulder again, more soothingly this time. “They'll figure it out. Don't worry too much.”

=-=-=

Doc Z runs Jesse through the biotic field. It eases the ache in his body and clears his vision but does nothing to soothe the anxiety twisting in his chest. He's discharged with orders to rest, even though they both know it's an order he won’t follow. 

Fareeha walks with Jesse back to his quarters. 

“No news,” she says before he asks. Jesse makes a frustrated noise. 

“They have to be doing something,” he says. Fareeha keys the code into his door. 

“They are - you heard Angela. They sent the recon team. We just haven't heard anything,” she says. 

“That doesn't make me feel better.”

“Gabe can take care of himself.”

That night, Jesse tosses and turns sleeplessly. His hand automatically reaches underneath for the worn, black hoodie he’s stashed there, the one that Gabe pretends not to miss. He clenches his hand in the fabric, trying to let it reassure him, soothe him. It doesn’t help. When he does manage to fall asleep, variations on the same nightmare play on repeat in his head. He wakes up too early, panicked and breathing hard, with nobody beside him to comfort him. Jesse gets up and paces the small space of his quarters in an attempt to try to calm his nerves, but it's a futile effort. He gets dressed and heads down to the mess hall. 

It's still too early for even the earliest risers, so the mess is empty and quiet. Jesse grabs a bowl and fills it with the sugary cereal he gets yelled at for eating (if they don't want him to eat it, why do they stock it?), an extra large cup of coffee, and one of those Swiss pastries that he could happily eat for the rest of his life. He takes a seat in a corner by the window and hunches over his food. It sticks in his throat. Jesse tries to wash it down with coffee but it's basically useless. He ends up dumping his half-eaten breakfast in the trash and hopes nobody sees him being so wasteful. 

Jesse spends the rest of the morning pacing restlessly. His body still aches - he should really be in bed - but his head is buzzing too loudly to get any actual rest. 

The squad is called in for debriefing at 0800. They assemble in front of Strike Commander Morrison to make their report. Jesse sneaks a look at his teammates as they settle in. The rest of the Blackwatch crew are all in varying states of “bad.” Valdez has a nasty gash on her forehead that's already healing over, and Prithi has her arm in a sling. Edwards looks tired but appears otherwise unscathed while Shiga is sporting a pair of impressive black eyes and a split lip. Strike Commander Morrison is looking more stormy than usual. 

“Report,” he snaps. The team exchanges a look before Jesse - de facto second in command even if it's not really an official posting - opens his mouth to speak. 

“We pursued the hostiles into the complex on the north side of the mountain. Agents Jayachandran and Valdez took the east corridor while Commander Reyes and I took the west. Shiga and Edwards stayed back to secure the exit,” Jesse says. He's gotten better at this reporting thing as time has gone on, even though it doesn't come naturally. He generally doesn’t like having to explain himself. Prithi steps in. 

“Valdez and I found the labs at the end of the east corridor. The tech appeared to be functioning, but no hostiles were present. We cleared the lab and started to make our way back to the exit,” she says. 

“Did you disable the tech?” Morrison asks. Valdez and Prithi exchange a small look. 

“We believe so, sir,” Valdez says. Morrison narrows his eyes. 

“You believe so?”

“Well, generally emptying a clip into a databank is pretty disabling,” Valdez says evenly. Jesse doesn't snicker - he's learned better - but Morrison presses his lips into a hard, displeased line. 

“What happened next?”

“We were about 100 meters from the exit - around a corner with no visibility - when we felt the first explosion,” Prithi says. 

“We didn't see anything by the exit,” Edwards puts in. “We just heard it.”

“Commander Reyes and I had found a hangar at the end of the west corridor,” Jesse says. “That was where the explosion was centralized. I didn’t get a good look.”

Jesse doesn’t remember most of the rest of it; there were more explosions, he knew that much. He remembers getting separated from Gabe, he remembers Gabe calling his name. 

“Did you see anyone?” Morrison asks, frowning at Jesse. 

“After the second or third explosion - there was a squad all in black. Maybe six or seven, all male as far as I could tell,” Jesse says. He remembers seeing the squad surround Gabe, he remembers Gabe putting up a fight, and then… “They grabbed Commander Reyes and wrestled him into a shuttle. They flew away.”

Morrison’s eyes are boring a hole into Jesse’s very soul. “They grabbed Commander Reyes,” he repeats, skepticism dripping from every syllable. 

“That’s what I said,” Jesse says. “I saw them grab him.”

“Commander Reyes doesn’t get  _ grabbed _ by anyone, McCree.”

Jesse makes a face - he can’t help it. “Yeah, well, it’s not like he just  _ let  _ them. He put up a fight.”

“Why didn’t you intervene?”

Jesse feels Valdez shift next to him. He clenches his own hands in his lap and forces himself to take a breath before he answers. 

“We got separated by the explosion,” Jesse says, doing his best to keep his voice even, though it ends up coming out strained. “I got thrown, there was a lot of crap flung around. A shuttle took off and I didn’t see Gabe - Commander Reyes again.”

“We all have biotrackers - can’t we track the Commander’s?” Prithi asks, mostly to get the attention off of Jesse for the moment. He gives her a small grateful look that he’s not sure she sees. 

“Offline,” Morrison says crisply. Jesse looks back at Morrison sharply, his heart dropping somewhere below his stomach. Morrison isn’t looking at any of them, he’s typing something on his tablet, his face impassive. 

“Offline? But that means -” Prithi stops and bites her lip. Jesse is suddenly having a hard time breathing. 

“Don’t we have another way to track him?” Valdez demands. 

“We’re working on it. You’re dismissed.”

Nobody moves. 

“We want to be involved with the rescue effort,” Valdez says, using her Marine voice. “He’s our commander. We’re all specialists. We should be on this mission.”

“Dismissed, I said, Valdez,” Morrison says. He gets up, clicking his tablet off and looks at the Blackwatch team expectantly. Everyone is still sitting down. “If you don’t think I’m not doing everything I can to recover Commander Reyes, then you ought to quit right now.  _ Dismissed _ .”

Morrison strides out of the room. The Blackwatch team exchanges a look. Valdez puts a hand on Jesse’s arm. It makes him jump. His head is spinning and he still doesn’t feel like he can breathe properly. He manages to look at Valdez. 

“You wanna go back to the infirmary?” she asks. Jesse blinks, shakes his head. 

“No,” he rubs a hand over his face. “I’m fine.”

“They’ll find Commander Reyes,” Prithi says, sounding more confident than she looks. Valdez presses her mouth into a line. 

“I’ll keep an ear out. Morrison might not want us on the rescue for whatever reason, but that doesn’t mean we have to sit this one out,” Valdez says. Edwards makes a face. He’s already halfway out of his seat. 

“We shouldn’t get in the way,” he says. Valdez twists in her seat to look at him. 

“We’re better equipped to handle this sort of thing. Hell, we’ve  _ done  _ this sort of thing ourselves.”

Edwards shrugs. “It’s different when it’s the commander. There’s protocol.”

“When have we ever worried about protocol?” Shiga asks. Edwards glances at him.

“Maybe we should when it’s our commander’s life on the line,” he says. Nobody says anything for a long moment. Edwards shrugs again. “They’ll get us if they need us.”

He leaves the debriefing room. Prithi and Shiga exchange a look. 

“He might have a point,” Shiga says. Prithi sighs. 

“Maybe,” she says. 

“Well we’re not just going to sit here doing nothing,” Valdez says. She nudges Jesse a little. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

“Yeah,” Jesse says. He stands up but feels a little wobbly on his feet. He steadies himself on the back of his chair, hoping that neither Prithi nor Valdez notices - no such luck. 

“Maybe you should lie down again, Jesse,” Prithi says. She’s giving Valdez a worried look that Jesse only half registers. 

“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Valdez nods. 

“Yeah,” Jesse says again. It’s a testament to his current mental state that he doesn’t put up a fight. Normally, he’d insist on keep going himself, but something about this situation - about the way Morrison said Gabe’s biotracker was  _ offline _ \- was getting to Jesse in a way that was wholly unfamiliar. 

He walks to his quarters in a daze, the movement automatic. His body still aches a little, in spite of the biotic field - or maybe that tightness he’s feeling in his chest is something else entirely. Jesse collapses on his narrow bed and presses his face into the pillow. He curls around Gabe’s hoodie, breathes in the smell, and tries not to think about Gabe being taken, hurt,  _ killed _ . 

He doesn’t sleep, instead floating somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, suspended by worry. 

=-=-=

Jesse feels sick to his stomach for the next day and a half. There’s no update on the rescue mission - or at least none that Morrison is willing to share with the Blackwatch squad. Neither Prithi or Valdez have any news for Jesse. Edwards is sitting back, convinced that the protocol will see them through. Shiga tries to distract Jesse with a slew of cat pictures in their group chat. Jesse turns off the notifications. 

Jesse sits with Fareeha in the mess, picking half-heartedly at a bowl of cereal that is rapidly becoming soggy. Fareeha kicks him under the table. 

“Are you listening to me?”

“What?” Jesse says, lifting his head. Fareeha makes a face at him. 

“I said I had an idea,” she says. Jesse squints a little. She sighs, exasperated. “To help find Gabe.”

Jesse eyes her, skeptical. “Yeah?”

Fareeha glances around and then leans in, keeping her voice low. “I think I can get one of Uncle Jack’s tablets.”

Jesse blinks and sits back in his seat. It’s tempting - awfully tempting - but he doesn’t want Fareeha to get in trouble. 

“That ain’t a good idea, Fareeha,” he says finally, shaking his head. Fareeha frowns at him. 

“Why not? What’s the worst they can do, ground me?” she points out. “It’s not like you can do anything without Uncle Jack noticing. Plus, I know all his codes. He never changes any of them.”

Jesse hates to admit it, but she’s got a point. If he tried anything, he could get booted out of Overwatch entirely. They could tear up his papers and send him to prison after all. But if Fareeha tried anything… Ana would be furious. The blame would still probably fall on him anyway. He worries - not for the first time - that he’s actually been a terrible influence on Fareeha. 

“It ain’t a good idea,” he says again. 

“I’ll be careful!” she insists. Jesse scrubs a hand through his hair, tugging on it a little, frustrated. He feels trapped, stuck - it’s not a feeling he’s had in a long time and it’s getting to him.  

“I ain’t saying you should do it -” Fareeha brightens and he gives her a stern look. The effect is diminished, he knows, because of all the mischief that they’ve gotten up to before. “- I  _ ain’t _ saying you should do it, but if you hear anything, you gotta tell me when you do.”

Fareeha puts a hand over one of Jesse’s. “We’re gonna find him, Jesse.”

=-=-=

Jesse tosses and turns in his own bed, wrapped up in the slightly too-big black sweatshirt that still smells like Gabe. He presses his face into the fabric, breathing in the smell, trying to soothe himself. It's a useless endeavor; he hasn't slept properly since he returned from the mission. It's starting to wear on him. 

The sudden swish of the door to his room opening makes him sit bolt upright. Against all reason, Jesse hopes it's Gabe - he tries to swallow down the disappointment when he sees Fareeha standing in the doorway. She holds up a tablet. 

“I got it,” she says breathlessly. She sounds entirely too pleased with herself. Jesse was right; he's a terrible influence. 

=-=-=

“Stef,” Jesse says quietly, urgently, leaning across the table in the mess. It's early; Valdez never did manage to shed her Marine habits. The mess is still relatively empty, only a few people a few tables away. Most of the regular Overwatch folks don’t mix with the Blackwatch team. “I need your help.”

Valdez eyes Jesse warily. She's been involved in too many of Jesse’s harebrained schemes to immediately agree to any of his requests for help, but something in Jesse’s tone seems to make her listen. He knows she’s been worried about Gabe too, and that the seeming lack of response on Morrison’s part doesn’t sit well with her either. 

“Alright,” she says, though Jesse can still hear the hesitation in her voice. 

“I have an idea of where Gabe is,” Jesse says. 

It took hours of sifting through the reports on Jack’s tablet to piece together the information. The recon team had returned empty handed, with vague allusions to a terrorist group who probably identified Gabe from his days in SEP. Some of the evidence points to the ambush at the mountain complex as a set up; a means of getting their hands on Gabe. The recon team didn’t actually find the location of the terrorists. Separate intel provides a few options, and more research narrows the possibilities down to one likely location. There’s next to no information on the terrorist group itself, but Jesse doesn’t care about that. 

Nobody had been deployed to the coordinates. 

“Okay,” Valdez says, still wary. 

“I can’t do it alone, Stef,” Jesse says. He hates the desperation that creeps into his voice, but if the Strike Commander isn’t going to do anything,  _ some _ one ought to. 

“Fine,” she says finally. “Where do you need me?”

=-=-=

The whole squad chips in. Valdez requisitions the shuttle, Prithi assembles weapons and supplies, and even Edwards steps up to run field operations remotely. Shiga volunteers to stay behind with Edwards so they don’t look  _ too  _ suspicious, even though he made it explicitly clear that he wanted to go with them. 

“I’ll just make sure Edwards doesn’t blow our cover,” Shiga had joked. 

Jesse, Prithi and Valdez leave late that night, when the base was quiet, mostly asleep. Valdez flies while Jesse fidgets in the co-pilot’s seat. Prithi wraps up her hurt arm tightly before settling in for a nap in the back. It’s a quiet shuttle ride that feels longer than it actually is. Jesse’s fingers keep twitching against the butt of Peacekeeper, strapped to his side. He’s battling his anger at Morrison for apparently doing nothing; he must have put together the same intel that Jesse did - it was all right there, it was glaringly obvious. Jack Morrison isn’t an idiot, and Jesse couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t acting on the intel on purpose. 

He hopes, desperately, that they’re not too late.

The coordinates lead them to what appears to be a shipwreck just off of the coast of Tierra del Fuego. The shipwreck is a clever cover, but the scans reveal the truth. Edwards guides them to a spot on the beach that falls outside of the range of the rusted and wrecked ship’s enhanced security systems and Prithi takes over locally to hack them inside. 

“Good luck,” Edwards says over the comms. “Holler if you need me.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t fall asleep,” Shiga puts in.

Prithi slips out of the shuttle ahead of Jesse and Valdez. Jesse hesitates before he follows. He switches Peacekeeper out with a standard issue Blackwatch pistol with a silencer. Even though he’d rather have Peacekeeper at his side for this mission, Jesse knows it’s more important to maintain stealth. Outside, it’s dark and it’s fucking  _ cold _ and their tac gear only goes so far. They keep low to the ground, following Prithi’s whispered directions. The water is shallow but freezing, and Jesse can already feel it seeping into his boots, numbing his toes. They find a low point in the rusted ship’s railing and scramble up, carefully. Up close, they can hear humming coming from within the ship; it’s definitely not just a wreck left to rot. Prithi checks her comms. 

“Minimal security, but scans show there’s at least a dozen people inside,” she whispers.

“Bots?” Valdez asks. Prithi shakes her head. 

“Hard to say.”

Valdez nods grimly. Jesse’s fingers twitch against his gun again.

“Prithi, keep the exit clear,” he says. “Stef, with me.”

Prithi melts back into the shadows as Jesse and Valdez step carefully down the tilted deck, to a hatch that looks suspiciously well-oiled, given the state of the rest of the ship. Sure enough, the hatch opens easily when Jesse gives it a tug. He hops down first and Valdez follows. They find themselves in a dimly lit corridor, stretching in both directions. He meets Valdez’s eye. 

“Split up?” she mouths. Jesse nods, tapping his ear piece. Valdez gives him a little salute and moves up the corridor that’s angled up to the bow. Jesse takes the path down, into the bowels of the ship. He unholsters his gun, mostly to make himself feel better. The light doesn’t get any better the further down he gets, and each of the rooms he passes are empty - doors off their hinges, eerie. At the end of the hall, there’s a door. Jesse hesitates. 

This whole thing is stupid and it shouldn’t have come to this, but Jesse would be damned if he let Gabriel Reyes rot because nobody wanted to do anything about it. 

Jesse pushes open the door - it doesn’t make a sound - and finds stairs on the other side. He glances behind him but Valdez is nowhere to be seen. He takes a breath and starts heading down the stairs. 

The light brightens and the quality of the ship improves dramatically; it's clear that the wreck really was just a convenient cover for a much more complex building. Jesse is starting to regret splitting up from Valdez. He puts a finger to his ear piece but only gets static. A bad feeling settles in his gut but he pushes it down: he has to get to Gabe. 

Jesse was never an expert in stealth. He learned the techniques, sure, but Prithi was the one who excelled in that particular area. Still - not that many people believed it - Jesse could be subtle if the situation called for it. He pulled everything he could remember from his training as he went from room to room. 

There were eleven people down here with him. Three were sleeping in a small bunk area by the stairs. Four were eating in a tiny, makeshift kitchen. Two more were holed up in what looked like a security room. They were muttering to each other in a language Jesse didn't recognize, trying to figure out why their monitors kept jumping to static. Jesse slipped past their room, mentally thanking both Edwards and Prithi for their unmatched skills. 

Jesse found the last two standing guard outside of a room tucked into a corner. They were both slouched against the door, shotguns held slack in their arms, talking to each other in low voices in the same language Jesse didn't understand. One of them spots Jesse coming towards them. His surprised shout is cut off by the bullet that Jesse fires through the middle of his head. The other one turns just in time to see the same fate. 

The shots ring in the hallway and Jesse wastes no time. He yanks open the door the two men had been guarding and slides inside, pulling it closed behind him. He comes face to face with yet another man - larger, burlier than the two men Jesse dispensed outside - he's looming over a hunched figure tied to a chair. The man hurls a knife at Jesse’s head that he just barely manages to duck. The knife clatters off the door behind him and falls to the floor. Jesse raises his gun, fires off one, two shots but the man lunges for him quick enough to throw Jesse off balance. He gets slammed back against the door and the man grabs Jesse’s throat with one hand and his gun arm with the other, smashing it against the door repeatedly until Jesse lets go of the pistol. He kicks the gun away then tightens his grip around Jesse’s throat. Jesse struggles, remembering his training. He manages to get enough leverage to headbutt the man, which sends him staggering. The man in the chair somehow kicks the gun to Jesse and he grabs it up, putting the last two bullets in the chamber into the man’s head. The man stops moving, a pool of blood spreading around him. Breathing hard, Jesse can finally look at the man tied to the chair. 

Gabe lifts his head to look at Jesse with difficulty; he’s managed a smile, but it’s more of a grimace. 

“Look who brought the cavalry,” Gabe rasps, his voice coming out used and raw. If Jesse wasn’t so full of adrenaline, he’d probably start crying. 

“Can you walk?” he asks. 

“Think so,” Gabe says. Jesse finds the knife on the floor and moves around Gabe to untie him. The ropes are cutting deep into Gabe’s wrists - they’re bloody and half-healed over, some of the scabs opening up again. Jesse saws through the ropes carefully, then goes for the ones around his feet and chest. He leans forward and gets an arm under Gabe. He’s heavy - Jesse is always surprised by how heavy he is, but this time it’s more due to deadweight than SEP-enhanced muscles. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jesse reloads his pistol and pushes Gabe behind him as he opens the door to the room again. Gunshots immediately ping off the door. Jesse ducks back, sticking his gun hand out instead. His wrist is unsteady from being slammed against the walls. He pulls the trigger and fires three times; he hears two thuds. Good enough. He steps out to fire down the hallway again. Another three shots and two more men fall. Not his finest work, but it’ll do, all things considered. He steps back towards the room and stumbles over Gabe, who’s bending over the two bodies of the guards Jesse had left earlier. Gabe straightens with difficulty, a shotgun in each hand. 

“Are you sure you -”

Gabe fires the shotguns around Jesse, taking down two more people as they come down the hall. The recoil makes Gabe waver on the spot, but he doesn’t fall. 

“Keep moving,” he grinds out. Jesse blinks and nods. He strides down the hall ahead of Gabe, who limps behind him. There are three more men unaccounted for; he hopes that Valdez didn’t get snuck up on. The three that were sleeping stumble out now - half-dressed in their own tac gear and guns waving wildly. Jesse tucks and rolls, squeezing off shots as he comes up so two of them drop immediately. The third goes down too, but is only injured. He fires at Jesse. He takes it in the shoulder and grits his teeth - one bullet left and it goes into the last man’s forehead. 

Jesse looks back at Gabe. He’s leaning against the wall, clutching his side. Jesse goes to him immediately and pulls his hand away from his side. It might just be a graze - it doesn’t look deep - but Gabe’s already beat up enough. Jesse gets an arm under his shoulder again. 

“I can walk,” Gabe protests. 

“That was all of ‘em,” Jesse says. “Unless Stef or Prithi found more. But I bet they took care of ‘em.”

Gabe lets the shotguns clatter to the floor. Jesse walks Gabe to the end of the hall and to the stairs. He didn’t consider this. He peers up the spiraled flight to the top deck for a moment before he looks back at Gabe. Gabe grimaces at him. 

“Nice and easy,” he says. Jesse nods. He adjusts his grip on Gabe and they start up the stairs. It's a tight fit - the stairs are narrow - and Gabe is leaning heavily into Jesse’s side. They go slow out of necessity. Halfway up, Gabe’s foot slips on a step and he nearly takes both of them down, but Jesse hauls them both up. 

“I’ve got you,” he grunts, even though his shoulder is screaming in protest. 

“Jesse…” Gabe starts to say. His voice sounds thin, strained. Jesse shakes his head a little. 

“It’s alright. Almost there.”

“Jesse -”

“Don’t, Gabe. We’re almost there.”

The two of them manage to make it to the top of the stairs, both of them wheezing with the effort. Jesse has to let go of Gabe to push open the hatch - the strain almost too much on his shoulder and hurt wrist. The cold hits them like a truck; a sharp wind has picked up and whips across the water, chilling them to the bone. Jesse can feel Gabe shivering against him. He presses his hand to his earpiece. 

“Stef? Prithi?” he asks. The comm crackles with static. Jesse frowns and tries again. “Stef? Prithi?” 

He pulls Gabe closer against his side - usually Gabe is the warm one, and it’s vaguely distressing to feel him shiver like this - as he scans the water. A shot pings off the hull of the ship and Jesse hears a cry echo across the water. He ducks instinctively, dragging Gabe down with him. He pushes Gabe to the deck and pokes his head up to get a look. He hears another shot and then the unmistakable sound of a shuttle engine revving. Suddenly, the shuttle is hovering over the deck, whipping the air painfully into Jesse’s face. 

Valdez sticks her head out of the shuttle. 

“Jesse?” she yells over the sound of the shuttle. Jesse feels the relief flood his body. He gives her a wave. Valdez drops a rope and gestures to Jesse to grab on. Jesse adjusts his hold on Gabe. This is going to hurt. He reaches up with his injured arm to grab the robe. Gabe grabs it too, but Jesse can see his fingers slipping on the rope. 

“I got it,” Jesse says. Gabe gives him a skeptical look and keeps his grip as best he can. Jesse’s shoulder is pulling horribly. The rope sways with the movement of the shuttle and it's really all he can do to hold on. “Stef! C’mon!”

“Stuck -” she grunts. Her heel comes out and kicks the winch. The rope yanks up sharply - Jesse feels like his shoulder is separating from his body but he doesn't let go. Finally, finally, Valdez drags Gabe into the shuttle and then Jesse. He lies on the shuttle floor, trying to catch his breath, as Valdez slides the door shut behind him. “Prithi, go.”

“How’s…?” Prithi starts to ask. Valdez leans down to check on Jesse. 

“Jesse? You still with us?”

Jesse blinks slowly, coming to his senses. “Yeah,” he says finally. Jesse allows himself just a moment before he pushes himself up to get a look at Gabe in the light of the shuttle. He's badly beaten; one eye swollen, his lips cracked and scabbed over. The wound in his side has stopped bleeding but his tac gear is stained with fresh blood as well as old. Jesse hauls Gabe to sit up better. 

“I'm fine, Jesse,” he rasps. 

“Bullshit,” Jesse says. He limps to the medical supply cabinet and grabs the kit and a bottle of water. Gabe’s eyes are watching him as Jesse brings it all back to him. 

“You’re bleeding,” Gabe says. 

“So are you,” Jesse says, tearing open a packet of gauze with his teeth when his hands won't cooperate. “Here - drink this. But hold still.”

“SEP,” Gabe reminds Jesse, but he doesn't move, letting Jesse fumble through cleaning what wounds he can see. His hands aren't working like they should and he's shaking more than he normally does when he comes off the adrenaline high. “Jesse - stop.”

“It's okay,” Jesse says, even though his vision is blurring. He swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand absently. Gabe reaches up - it's an effort, Jesse can tell - to grab his hand. He gives it a squeeze. It hurts. Jesse shakes his head a little. “Lemme - lemme do this, Gabe.”

Gabe drops his hand and lets him. Jesse is chewing a hole through his lip, concentrating on cleaning up every bit of Gabe he can get to. He accumulates a filthy pile of gauze and antiseptic wipes - he only stops because he runs out. He stares at his hands, stained pink with blood and dirt and god knows what else. 

“Hey,” Gabe says softly. He finds Jesse’s hand again, squeezing it gently. Jesse swallows thickly around the lump in his throat. He sits back and pulls Gabe into his side. Gabe goes easily, dropping his head to Jesse’s shoulder. They sit like that for a while. Jesse realizes that Gabe eventually falls asleep, the weight of his body sinking against Jesse’s. Jesse can't sleep; he listens to Gabe’s breathing, worrying about every little hitch of breath. They’re both still shaking a little. The rest of the shuttle ride is spent in a half-daze, only interrupted by Prithi’s voice when they finally land back at the base. It’s still dark when they land, though the sun is threatening to peek over the horizon. 

“Jesse? Let’s get to the infirmary,” she says. She and Valdez help Jesse and Gabe to their feet. They’re both wobbly but Gabe feels a little steadier than he was; he wraps an arm around Jesse’s waist as they step out of the shuttle. 

“Here, I got -” Valdez starts to say. 

“I got him,” Gabe says gruffly. Jesse blinks. 

“I got you,” he says. Gabe squeezes Jesse’s waist. 

They shuffle to the infirmary, clinging to each other, trying to support each other with every awkward step. Doc Z is already there, looking sleepy and grumpy; Valdez must have called ahead. Jesse takes a moment to register that Edwards and Shiga are there too. 

“You both look like shit,” Edwards says sympathetically. Doc Z shoots him a look. 

“Bed, both of you,” Doc Z says briskly. She tries to separate Gabe from Jesse’s grip, but Jesse doesn’t want to let go. Doc Z blinks at him. “Jesse.”

“I’m alright,” Jesse says, ducking away from her hands. He shuffles Gabe to the nearest bed and eases him down. Gabe lets him, but catches his hand. 

“Listen to the doc, Jesse,” he says. Jesse blinks, his vision blurring again. “It’s alright, Jesse.”

“I just need a chair,” Jesse says, looking back at the doctor. “I’ll sit right here.”

=--=-=

The next few hours pass in a blur. Jesse gets his chair right next to Gabe’s bed while Doc Z cleans him up. The SEP did its job; most of Gabe’s wounds were already well on the way to healing by the time the doctor gets to them. The nap Gabe had in the shuttle must have given him a jump start, and Jesse’s attempt at first aid helped too. Still, Doc Z runs Gabe through a biotic field just in case. Jesse keeps a hold on his hand the whole time, even though - at some point - he falls asleep from sheer exhaustion. 

When Jesse wakes again, it’s dark and the infirmary is quiet. He’s in his own bed, alone. He immediately tries to sit up, but a pull in his shoulder stops him short. 

“Take it easy, Jesse,” Gabe’s voice rumbles from the bed next to him. Jesse turns his head to look at him. He looks better - good, even, if not a little tired. “You had a bullet in your shoulder. Fractured wrist. Your toes were practically frozen.”

“Oh, yeah. Y’know our combat boots ain’t waterproof?” Jesse says, swinging his legs carefully over the edge of the bed. Gabe tracks his movements. 

“We’ve got special gear for that,” Gabe says. Jesse’s feet hit the floor and oh - there it is. His feet ache, oversensitive. It’s just one, two steps to Gabe’s bed. Jesse swarms up next to him. 

“Seems like an oversight, to me,” Jesse says, tucking himself into Gabe’s side. Gabe moves over to give him room. It’s ridiculous, though - the bed is barely big enough for Gabe, let alone the two of them. Jesse doesn’t care. He clings to Gabe and breathes in his familiar smell, even though it’s marred with the astringent smell of the infirmary. He presses his face into Gabe’s neck. “Seems like they all oughta be waterproof.”

“I’ll look into it,” Gabe says into Jesse’s hair. Jesse lifts his head to press his mouth to Gabe’s. He means it to be soft, careful, but it comes off increasingly desperate, wanting to make sure that he’s real and he’s  _ there _ \- that he’s okay. Gabe kisses him back just as hard. He still tastes a little like blood and it makes Jesse ache to think that anyone could hurt Gabe like that. He’s never seen him so hurt before and it  _ scared _ him. He keeps kissing Gabe, even though he can’t catch his breath and his head spins with the lack of oxygen. Gabe doesn’t stop him, holds him close, kissing back just as desperately. 

Finally, breathless, Gabe pulls Jesse in a little closer to his chest and rests his forehead against Jesse’s. Neither of them say anything for a long time. 

“You shouldn’t have come after me, Jesse.”

Jesse picks up his head to look at him. “Nobody else was gonna do it.”

“That’s not true,” Gabe says, shaking his head. Jesse sits up a bit, to get a better look at Gabe. 

“I’m serious. Morrison was just - just sittin’ on the intel,” Jesse says. “No movement. It was almost a week and nothing was happening and -”

“And there’s protocol,” Gabe interrupts gently. He brushes some hair off of Jesse’s cheek. “I would’ve been okay without a knight in shining armor.”

Jesse scrunches up his face and settles back down. “I don’t have shiny armor. Spurs, maybe.”

Gabe snorts. Jesse feels his arms tighten around him, his cheek leaning against his head. He lets his breath out. He’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble. It’s worth it, though. He fists his bandaged hand in Gabe’s shirt and lets his steady heartbeat lull him back to sleep. 

=-=-=

Jesse wakes up in the infirmary alone. He panics; where did Gabe go? Did he actually manage to rescue him, or…?

“You’re awake,” Doc Z says, bustling over to the bed and turning off the monitors that had started beeping wildly when Jesse woke. She pushes him back down to the pillow. 

“Where’s Gabe?” he asks, resisting as best he can, but Angela has her palm on his still-tender shoulder. He goes back down to the bed. 

“Debriefing with Strike Commander Morrison,” she says, checking the dressing under her hand. She clicks her tongue and reaches for fresh gauze. Jesse frowns. 

“But he should be resting -” 

“Stop squirming, Jesse,” Doc Z says. “ _ You _ should be resting. Commander Reyes is enhanced, you know.”

Jesse goes still, but only because he knows Angela has no compunctions about putting him out if he doesn’t cooperate. She redresses his shoulder and checks his wrist and his toes - he gets to keep all of them, yay - before she signs his release form. 

“Rest. Come back tomorrow for your shoulder dressing again,” Doc Z says. Jesse eases himself off the bed. He is sore, exhausted. Rest doesn’t sound half bad, if he doesn’t get booted from Overwatch first. 

“Was Morrison mad?” Jesse asks, taking a sweatshirt that Angela offers him and tugging it over his head with some difficulty. His shoulder is stiff and sore despite having been passed over with some of Angela’s tech. He pokes head through the neck in time to see her grimace. 

“Mad would be putting it delicately,” Doc Z says. Jesse scrunches up his face. 

“Well, if he kills me, will you promise to try to put me back together?” he asks. She gives him a gentle shove. 

“Go rest, Jesse.”

=-=-=

Jesse doesn’t make it back to his room. He ends up in Jack Morrison’s office, getting one of the most biting dressing-downs of his entire time in Overwatch. He stands in front of Morrison’s desk with his hands clasped behind his back, letting the strike commander’s anger wash over him. Jesse has had worse; at least there’s no physical punishment to back up Morrison’s words. He is feeling a little wobbly on his feet, though. It would absolutely be the cherry on top of the milkshake if Jesse passed out in Strike Commander Morrison’s office. 

“- put everything at risk, the squad, Blackwatch as a whole,  _ Overwatch _ as a whole, and Reyes - did you even stop to fucking think what would happen to Reyes if you fucked it up, McCree?” Morrison is saying. Jesse is only half listening, but it doesn’t really matter. Morrison presses on. “He could’ve been killed. His blood would’ve been on your hands. It’s inexcusable.”

Morrison goes on and on. Jesse does not interrupt, but doesn’t apologize or even try to look contrite either. He’d do it a hundred times over if it meant that Gabe was safe at the end of the day. He knows he’s better than Morrison thinks. He’ll never understand the grudge Morrison seems to harbor against him. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself or are you just going to stand there with a fucking smirk on your face?” Morrison snaps. Jesse tightens his hands behind his back. 

“I didn't think it was right to leave the commander behind,” Jesse says, voice coming out strained. Morrison’s anger flares. 

“He can take care of himself. What you did - the  _ risk  _ -” and he's off again. Jesse lets him rant. He's never going to agree with Morrison and Morrison is never going to see reason here. Let him waste his breath. 

“You’re off ops until further notice,” Morrison says. That makes Jesse snap back to the present. 

“Sir?” he manages to say. 

“You heard me, McCree,” Morrison says. He’s red in the face, a vein throbbing in his temple. 

“It was my idea,” Jesse says quickly. “The rest of the squad -”

“This isn’t about them. I can’t trust you not to endanger the team or Overwatch as a whole. You have a long way to go to prove to me you’re trustworthy. I thought we trained the gangbanger out of you, but apparently I was wrong.”

It’s not prison - but it’s close. It cuts deep, which is exactly what Morrison had intended. Jesse swallows hard.

“Dismissed. Get the hell out of my sight, McCree.”

=-=-=

Gabe intercepts Jesse as he leaves Morrison’s office. He steers Jesse to his own quarters without a word. Jesse is still slightly stunned so he goes easily, his mind replaying Morrison’s final few words over and over. Gabe nudges him through the door and looks him over. 

“You okay?” he asks. Jesse blinks up at him. 

“Suspended,” he says. Gabe nods, expression grim. 

“I know.”

“Will I…?” Jesse asks. Gabe squeezes Jesse’s good shoulder. 

“We’ll get you back out there. Jack’s just pissed he couldn’t do it his way. Not everything is a clean military op. You just stay out of his way for awhile, alright?” Gabe says. Jesse nods, rubbing a hand over his face as he draws in a breath. He trusts Gabe’s word, more than anything Morrison says, even if the words sting. 

“Are you okay?” Jesse asks after a moment. Gabe takes a step back so Jesse can see. He looks almost as good as new; he’s holding himself a little tenderly, but all the surface wounds have already started healing over, the skin a bit raw and new, but whole. He’s even managed to have a shower. If anything, he just looks a little tired. 

“Angela works miracles,” Gabe says. “And for all the bullshit, SEP helps too.”

“You can say that again,” Jesse says, looking away. Gabe softens. 

“Are you okay, Jesse? Really?”

“I’m just - I’m glad you’re okay, Gabe,” Jesse says, hating the way his voice wavers a little on Gabe’s name. “I couldn’t stop thinking - if you were hurt, or - or -”

Gabe pulls him in, kisses him sweetly, tenderly. “I’ve had much worse.”

“Doesn’t make it better,” Jesse mumbles against his mouth. Gabe kisses him again. 

“I know.”

“I’m just -”

“I know.”

Jesse swallows down the fear that had kept his stomach in knots for days and days and surges up to kiss Gabe hard, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in. If it’s a little desperate, he doesn’t care. He’s just glad to have Gabe close. 

“C’mere,” Gabe murmurs, tugging Jesse back to bed. Jesse goes willingly, dragging Gabe down to the bed with him as soon as his legs hit the mattress. He pulls Gabe over him, to enjoy the weight and warmth and closeness of Gabe’s body on his.

“You're supposed to be resting,” Jesse mumbles between kisses. 

“So are you,” Gabe says. He chases his lips, though, apparently unwilling to actually make Jesse stop kissing him. 

“Uh huh,” Jesse says, tipping his head up so Gabe can get at his throat. He loves the way Gabe presses kisses there, the little scrape of teeth and stubble against his skin. Gabe’s hands find the hem of Jesse’s sweatshirt and rucks it up so he can spread his hands over the planes of Jesse’s stomach and chest. His hands are warm against Jesse’s skin. It grounds him, anchors him to Gabe. He needs it. His own hands come up to slip under Gabe’s shirt. 

“Get this off,” Gabe says, voice low, pushing Jesse’s sweatshirt up further. Jesse reaches up to tug it off, but winces at the angle on his shoulder. “Here - let me.”

“You’re the hurt one,” Jesse protests, but Gabe is already slipping the sweatshirt up and off over his head. He presses a kiss to the edge of the gauze covering the shot on his shoulder. 

“You took a bullet,” Gabe says. He kisses around the edges of the dressing almost reverently, pressing his lips deliberately to Jesse’s skin. It makes a warm, tingling feeling spread from his shoulder and settle into Jesse’s chest. He lets his head fall back and his eyes slip closed, loving the way Gabe trails kisses over his shoulders and chest, checking bruises, reassuring himself that Jesse is okay. 

“I was supposed to be the one taking care of you, for once,” Jesse says when Gabe finally comes up to press a kiss to his mouth. 

“You did. You are,” Gabe says. “I'm here because of you, Jesse.”

“I’d do it again. A hundred times, if I had to.”

“I know.”

Jesse crushes his mouth to Gabe’s again, nipping at his lips and mouth and tongue. He pushes at Gabe until he can roll them over and straddle Gabe’s hips, grinding down just a little to gauge his reaction. Gabe practically purrs, hands settling on Jesse’s hips to hold him there as he leans forward to kiss him again. Jesse kisses down Gabe’s chest, remembering the dirt and blood and scabs that had marred his skin just the day before. He pushes at Gabe’s shirt until he gets the idea and tugs it off himself. His chest is crisscrossed by old scars and new, raw skin. Jesse kisses each mark, moving slowly down Gabe’s body until he gets to the edge of his sweatpants. He lifts his eyes to look at Gabe’s face; his pupils are blown, lips parted, the way he's looking at Jesse can't be mistaken for anything but desire. 

“Want to feel you, Jesse,” Gabe says quietly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. Jesse catches his own lip between his teeth and nods. He sits back on his heels to pull Gabe’s sweats off. He drops them over the side of the bed and then does the same thing with Gabe’s underwear before he goes back to pressing kisses like prayers over Gabe’s scarred skin. 

When Jesse kisses the tip of Gabe’s dick, he lets his eyes flutter shut. Gabe shifts just a little, moving a leg up and out of the way so Jesse can take more of him into his mouth. He smells more like Gabe now - less like the infirmary - clean and slightly musky. Jesse wants to breathe it in, roll in it, luxuriate in the familiar safety of it. He loosens his jaw and slides his mouth down around Gabe’s dick, which is rapidly hardening on his tongue. He can't take it all the way down; Jesse isn't particularly skilled at blow jobs - just enthusiastic - and Gabe is thick. Jesse pulls back to suck at the tip of him. Gabe makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat, moving a hand into Jesse’s hair, petting and stroking. Jesse nudges his head into his hand but doesn't stop; he flicks his tongue along the underside of Gabe’s dick and closes his mouth around him the first couple inches, hollowing his cheeks. That gets a moan out of Gabe. 

“Jesse,” he breathes. Jesse does it again, one hand kneading Gabe’s thigh while the other grips and strokes the base of Gabe’s dick. Gabe's hips twitch up. “Jesse.”

Jesse makes a little sound around Gabe’s dick, lifting his eyes to peer coyly up at him through his eyelashes. Gabe tightens his hand in Jesse’s hair. 

“Want to feel you, Jesse,” Gabe says again, pulling Jesse up gently. Jesse wipes at the corner of his lip with his thumb. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says levelly, eyes hungry and bright. He licks his lips a with a small flick of his tongue and Jesse’s just about ready to give him anything he wants. 

It's a rare enough occurrence in his and Jesse's relationship that the novelty hasn't worn off. Jesse's not sure he ever will; the look of sheer trust in Gabe’s face as he hands the lube over to Jesse makes him swell with pride that  _ he _ is the one Gabe has chosen to share himself with. Hell, he feels god damn  _ honored _ . 

It's with total reverence that Jesse settles between Gabe’s legs and takes his dick into his mouth again. Gabe spreads his legs wider as Jesse runs a slicked finger down and back between them. He makes a little noise above Jesse as presses a finger into him, hips twitching up again. Jesse raises his eyes even as he slides his mouth further down around Gabe’s dick, lips stretched, fingers moving inside of him. Gabe’s eyes are fixed on Jesse’s face, breathing hard. He’s much better at keeping his composure than Jesse is; Jesse is getting worked up just sucking Gabe off, his erection already leaking into the sheets. He has to come up for air. 

“Ready?” Jesse asks breathlessly. Gabe drags him up to kiss him deeply. It’s hot and open mouthed and  _ needy _ in a way that Gabe is almost never needy. It goes straight to Jesse’s dick in the best way possible. 

“Yeah - yeah, Jesse, c’mon.” Gabe murmurs, his hand finding Jesse’s dick and guiding it between his legs with a firm grip. Jesse spreads more lube over himself sloppily, over-eager, still trying to kiss Gabe. Gabe lets out a little rumbling laugh. “Take it easy.”

“I am - just - just wanna make you feel good, Gabe,” Jesse says. He slides a hand up the back of Gabe’s thigh, pushing it up and back so he can rub his dick over Gabe’s ass. Gabe keeps guiding his dick, his hips shifting restlessly, chasing the tip as it catches on the rim. Jesse keeps his eyes on Gabe’s face, letting him take the lead, even though he’s aching for more. Finally, Gabe reaches with his other hand, grabbing a handful of Jesse’s ass, and drags him forward. Jesse doesn’t need telling twice; he pushes into Gabe, slowly, letting Gabe guide him. “Fuck - fuck  -  _ fuck _ , Gabe -”

Gabe tips his head back and closes his eyes, breathing heavily. He holds onto Jesse’s hip until he’s flush with his ass. Jesse doesn’t move, panting, waiting for Gabe to give him the go ahead. It’s almost agonizing; Gabe is so hot, tight around his dick. He wants more. But he doesn’t want to abuse Gabe’s trust, either - so he waits. Gabe opens his eyes again after a moment. 

“Jesse,” he says, almost a purr. “Fuck me.”

Jesse moans and hunches over Gabe to press another sloppy kiss to his mouth, or close enough to his mouth. He snaps his hips forward and he can  _ feel _ Gabe’s pleased growl. Gabe wraps a leg around him, to pull him in, keep him close. Jesse loves it. He doesn’t hold back - he doesn’t have Gabe’s patience or reserve, and Gabe just feels so damn good and he’s so, so relieved that he’s here with him. He clings to Gabe, one hand under his knee and the other clutching the back of his neck as he thrusts into him. His breath comes in short  _ ah, ah, ah _ s. He’s not going to last. 

“Gabe - Gabe, you feel so good - so fuckin’ good -” Jesse pants. Gabe slips a hand into Jesse’s hair, pulling him in so their foreheads touch. His hips keep lifting to meet Jesse’s, the slick sound of skin on skin driving Jesse crazy. “Gabe - Gabe!”

Without warning, Gabe rolls them, pinning Jesse to the mattress. Jesse whines as his dick slips free, but he doesn’t lose the contact for long; Gabe straddles Jesse’s hips in a very good approximation of Jesse, leans back, and guides Jesse’s dick back inside him. He rolls his hips experimentally, then starts  _ riding  _ Jesse in earnest. Jesse can’t do anything but hold on, both hands on Gabe’s thighs. Gabe trails his hands down his own chest and takes his dick in his hand to stroke himself down in time to the rhythm he’s quickly building with each roll of his hips. He’s putting on a show - he has to be. Jesse is vaguely aware that he’s getting increasingly louder, practically shouting Gabe’s name. Gabe grunts and pitches forward, crushing his mouth to Jesse’s. He splashes their stomachs hotly, making an incredible, breathy moan directly into Jesse’s mouth. He’s clenching hard around Jesse and Jesse loses it completely. His hips buck up, fingers digging into Gabe’s thighs, and he comes with a shout. 

Jesse blinks dumbly, his head spinning. Gabe is touching his cheek. 

“You okay?” he asks, brows knitted together. Jesse gives him a dopey, sexed-out smile and drags him down for a kiss. 

“Love you,” Jesse mumbles, the words slurring together a little. Gabe shakes his head fondly, getting up off of Jesse and pulling him to his chest. Jesse doesn’t care that they’re sweaty and sticky or that the ache in his shoulder is coming back with full force. He snuggles in. “I’d do it again.”

“Hm?”

“Rescue you. Break all the rules. ‘Specially if we end up like  _ this _ after all of it,” Jesse says. Gabe slips a hand under Jesse’s chin and tilts his head up to look at him. He kisses him tenderly, sweetly. 

“You have to be careful, Jesse,” he says. Jesse makes a face. 

“Stef and Prithi were fine. I’m fine.”

“Not what I meant,” Gabe says. “I need you here.”

“I wasn’t gonna sit here and twiddle my thumbs -” Jesse says, scrambling to sit up, leaning away from Gabe, the afterglow chilling almost immediately. Gabe reaches for Jesse again but Jesse ducks out of the way. 

“I need you in Blackwatch, Jesse. With me,” Gabe interrupts. “That’s what I mean. I can’t… do this without you. I don’t want you to endanger your position here  _ because _ of me.”

Jesse presses his lips together and looks away. “I couldn’t just… not do anything.”

“I know,” Gabe says, voice going softer, his face twisting up a little. Jesse searches Gabe’s face, trying to gauge his expression. He’s spent a long time trying to figure out how to read Gabe but he’s still no expert. There’s something in Gabe’s face this time, though, that softens Jesse’s resolve; worry, maybe. When Gabe reaches for Jesse again, he lets him pull him in. He tucks his head against Gabe’s shoulder. 

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Jesse says after a long moment. Gabe nods against Jesse’s head. 

“Love you, Jesse.”

Jesse moves his head so he can listen to Gabe’s heartbeat again. He lets the strong, steady rhythm lull him to sleep. As he drifts off, Jesse feels Gabe’s fingers lightly tracing around the edge of the dressing on his shoulder. 


End file.
